I am smart.
There is no questioning that I get things easier than others.
I am proficient in math and reading.
I understand science and logic.
Yet at the same time I am horribly stupid.
Social situations are a battlefield in which I am on the losing side.
I am horribly blunt in conversations.
Saying the wrong things at the wrong time.
But I am improving.
Ever so slightly.
So when the conversation moves to subjects that I am adept in, I try so hard to say the right things.
I try hard not to brag.
I try to be humble.
But sometimes it slips out.
I feel horrible.
Sometimes I see the look on their face.
That one look.
Sometimes they hide it.
They say "nice", or "great job".
I try.
But sometimes I fail.
So for ever more, I shall try.
Always improving.
Hoping to be humble.

I saw a picture of peace, in a simple kitchen
scene, hair in dark ringlets a face of middle
age, and eyes as deep as wells.

A humble home, a woman of peasant stock. A
glance so dull, yet deep in cost, in this I saw
peace in trade a life of cost, for this single
scene.

What price those eyes, what price such depth?
A simple scene, a lifetime made. One
glance and then, it’s gone.

By Jason Cain.

I kiss your toes one by one
and wipe your feet like the face of a new born babe,
in the hope that they may trample me lighter.

When a man emerge
from the dark city streets
in search of light.

Getting away from ghetto
Past remain a tattoo
I have found a path too.

But the scars articulated in my face
Will always remind  me where I  was
yesterday.

So I remained humble too,
Knowing today life is harmful to
Someone. Under the street light.